


Ten of Pentacles

by PostcardsfromTheoryland



Series: April Tarot Card Prompts [18]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Foster Kid Keith (Voltron), Found Family, Keith & Holt family is not something I knew I needed until I wrote this, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:35:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23732455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PostcardsfromTheoryland/pseuds/PostcardsfromTheoryland
Summary: The Ten of Pentacles: Family, heritage, solid foundationsKeith finds a home at the Galaxy Garrison
Relationships: Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Matt Holt/Shiro
Series: April Tarot Card Prompts [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686346
Comments: 18
Kudos: 78





	Ten of Pentacles

**Author's Note:**

> a continuation following the Knave of Wands and The Moon

If you had told Keith a year ago that military school would be a relief, he would have laughed in your face and probably kicked you in the shins for good measure. There was some stuff he didn’t like, obviously: getting up so early every morning, having to salute and use shit like _sir_ and _ma’am_ , having to cut his hair, but everything else…

His own room. Access to the cafeteria whenever it was open. The uniforms, while not exactly comfortable, were an equalizer: no one knew where you came from if everyone was dressed exactly the same way. And of course, the best part was _the flying_. The courses were easy - they’d decided against moving him into a higher level because the grades on the rest of his work were lower than they wanted - but there was still a freedom, a serenity, in getting behind the controls of the sim and shooting into the sky. And though the coursework sometimes got a little boring, Shiro woke him up early every Sunday morning, when the sims were relatively free, for some independent study where he could really let loose.

He’d made it all the way through Canes Venatici on his third try.

Guardianship over him had officially transferred to Commander Holt. _‘You’re allowed to call me Sam, you know,’ he’d said, ‘even when we’re in formal settings.’_ Keith was...still getting used to that. He’d been invited over to their house for dinner before the term started, which was weird, but not as awkward as it could be. A shorter, female version of Matt had met him and Shiro at the door, introduced herself as Katie, and then, giving Keith a shrewd look, said “we have a dog!” and Keith had been won over.

Katie was starting at the Garrison that fall, as well, two years early since, as Keith quickly learned, she was a _fucking genius_. Keith had never been one to make friends easily or quickly, but after he’d called out some assholes for making fun of how young she was, Katie had declared they were best friends and well, that was that. She was brilliant, even if she made Keith feel like an idiot half the time for how advanced she was in science and math and engineering and basically everything else, but it was nice to have someone else to talk to. Within their first week at the Garrison she was dragging him over to eat lunch with someone in her engineering class, who in turn introduced them to his lunchmate, another person in the piloting track. Hunk had set Keith on edge at first, big enough to be a threat, but half a minute of conversation had shown that he was soft spoken and kind, and also he was sharing cookies he’d somehow managed to make in the microwave that sat at the end of the dorm hallway, and they were _good_. Lance was another story: loud and abrasive, and for some reason he’d decided that he and Keith were rivals, whatever that was supposed to mean. They got along well enough after Hunk had sat them both down and informed them they were being idiots, and that competition was fine but don’t be dicks about it, okay?

Shiro wasn’t at lunch all the time - he ate in his office to grade papers sometimes, and every once in a while he’d be gone on a trip to the space station - but he’d often eat lunch with them, too, always shooting proud, pleased smiles at Keith that Keith wasn’t entirely sure what to do with.

“I’m just glad to see you’re making friends,” Shiro had said when Keith asked. And Keith had shoved him in the arm and called him a weirdo and tried to hide his face so Shiro wouldn’t see how widely he was smiling.

October was weird. Katie had hacked into his records to figure out his birthday, and Hunk had snuck into the kitchen to make him a cake that was literally the best thing he’d ever tasted. Lance, upon hearing that Katie had a dog, had convinced them all to dress up as the characters from Scooby Doo for Halloween and trick-or-treat in town as a group.

“I still don’t understand why I had to be Shaggy,” Keith asked later, as they all sat in Lance’s dorm room trading candy.

“I’m with Keith on this one,” Hunk said, “I do _not_ feel like I make a convincing Fred.”

“Katie was the obvious choice for Velma,” Lance explained, “and I still had this wig from Ronnie to be Daphne, and then I just drew straws for you two.”

Keith wanted to be annoyed, but he’d left with a bag full of gobstoppers since no one else had wanted theirs, so he supposed it all worked out in the end.

He and Shiro had been invited to Thanksgiving dinner at the Holts’ house, and then Christmas, too. Keith had panicked at Shiro for a good hour about what type of gifts he was supposed to get people and with what money, and Shiro had driven them both out to the city to buy gifts for everyone. He came away from Christmas in awe, cradling the brand new laptop the Holts had given him, which meant he could stop doing all his assignments on the public computers in the library. Shiro had given him a pair of really good fingerless leather riding gloves and a lesson on the hoverbike, which was technically illegal since Keith wasn’t anywhere near 16 yet, but in the middle of the desert no one really cared.

“I’ve never really celebrated Easter…” Keith had said awkwardly when he got invited for dinner for _that_ , too, but Katie just shrugged in return.

“Neither do we, really, but it’s an excuse to hide a bunch of candy around the house so what’s not to like?”

Unfortunately, the dorms closed during the summer breaks. Keith had been packing a bag, resigned to return to the group home - the idea was made worse by just having had what was easily the best year of his life - when Katie barged into his room and informed him he and Shiro would be going on the Holts’ annual summer vacation roadtrip.

It was...weird. Though Commander...Sam...had official guardianship over him, they’d never really thrown around any words like _foster family_ but, Keith was realizing, that’s sort of what the Holts were.

When he came back the Garrison in the fall, his dorm room had some new additions: pictures of him, Katie, and Bae Bae in front of the World’s Largest Rocking Chair, a ridiculous stuffed Green Man alien Matt had bought him at the truck stop near Area 51, pages and pages of mostly illegible kanji from when Shiro had tried to teach him Japanese in a moving camper, a suitcase full of new clothes when Sam and Colleen realized Keith had mostly been cycling through the same three outfits or so.

They’d done the same thing his second summer, this time going further up north into Canada, and he ended up with so many random souvenirs he was running out of room for them. There was a framed picture in a place of honor is his nightstand: him, Shiro, and all the Holts at Niagara Falls. Shiro was on his right side, Katie on his left, Matt on Shiro’s other side; Sam and Colleen were behind them, giving all four of them bunny ears.

His classes were getting harder, and a little more stressful, but he was… _happy_ , he realized. Content, and settled, and actually looking forward to the future.

* * *

Of course, everything came crashing down on him halfway through his third year.

His scholarship, covering his tuition, room, and board, had stipulated that he maintain a 3.0 average in every class. Some of them were easier than others: science and math were a breeze when he knew Matt and Katie, and his required “engineering for ~~dummies~~ pilots” course had been fine once he asked Hunk to explain a few things. But, because the Garrison wanted them to all be “well-rounded” or whatever, he’d had other classes: English, history, an arts elective. This semester, he’d ended up with Commander Maxwell for history, who was a hardass and expected exact dates on everything and giant essays on the exams about really obscure topics and never gave extra credit.

Keith had tried: he’d made flash cards, and study guides, and sat in Lance’s room for hours as they quizzed each other (Lance had the misfortune of getting stuck with Maxwell too, though in a different period, so they couldn’t even pass notes and complain during class). He’d tried so hard, but in the end: B-.

Not good enough.

Katie had found him, sitting on the floor of his dorm room with his report card, when he didn’t show up for dinner that night.

“I, uh...do you want a hug?” she asked hesitantly. Keith nodded, sniffling pathetically, before Katie sat herself down in his lap and grabbed his report card. “This is pretty good, what’s wrong?”

“History,” Keith managed. “My scholarship, I need to stay at a 3.0 or higher.”

“Well that’s stupid,” she said, startling a watery laugh out of Keith. “It’s just history, and it’s with fucking Maxwell, it’s not as if you failed Piloting 101. I’m calling Shiro, and then I’m calling Dad. They’ll fix it.”

Which is how Keith found himself back at the Holt’s house that night, shoved in between Shiro and Colleen on the couch, Katie perched on the arm next to her, Bae Bae on the floor by his feet, Matt and Sam on the shorter couch across from him. He’d only needed to turn a bit before Shiro was pulling him in, letting Keith try to burrow into his chest and ignore the fact that his life was officially over.

“Maxwell’s a dick,” Matt said.

“Everyone says he should have retired years ago,” Katie agreed.

“I won’t speak ill of a colleague,” Sam started, “but your views have been echoed by a few officers, as well.”

“Can you do anything, Sam?” Shiro asked.

“I’ll talk with the Admiral and the Dean first thing in the morning. Keith, you’re the best damn pilot we’ve ever had, no offense, Shiro, and they’re not going to want to lose you over a technicality.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” Keith whispered. He couldn’t go back to life before this, he just _couldn’t_ , back to the group home and his shitty school and no friends and no flying…

“It will,” Sam said, and Keith wished he had half of his confidence. “And even if it doesn’t, this isn’t a death sentence, Keith. It just means that you lose your scholarship, and we’ll help you with that.”

Keith wasn’t convinced. ‘Helping him with that’ basically meant paying his tuition, and Keith wasn’t an idiot. Garrison tuition was expensive, and the Holts had two kids of their own to pay for, and it wasn’t as if Shiro was rolling in money, either.

“Sam,” Colleen murmured, her hand still rubbing circles on Keith’s back. “Maybe you should get what we talked about before?” Keith didn’t know what she meant and right now he really didn’t care, face still buried in Shiro’s shoulder to try to hide how much he was crying. He suspected it wasn’t really working. He heard Sam get off the couch and go into the hall closet, coming back with something that crinkled slightly. Shiro nudged him a little bit and Keith reluctantly sat back up, wiping a hand futilely at his eyes.

“We were planning to give this to you for Christmas, obviously,” Sam said, handing over the package wrapped in cheery-looking polar bears. “You don’t need to have an answer right away, you don’t need to say yes. Just, know that this is an option, and it’s something we want to do for you, if you want that, too.”

Keith really didn’t understand any of that, but he took the package anyways. It was lighter than he’d expected, and he took his time taking the paper off so it wouldn’t tear at all. The paper fell away to reveal a simple box, and he was confused when all he found inside was some kind of form. He was just about to ask when he finally registered what was on the top:

**Department of Health Services - Vital Records**

**Certificate of Adoption**

Everything got sort of muffled and blurry after that. There were voices around him, but he couldn’t tell what they were saying. Keith registered that he was breathing way too fast, but he couldn’t reign it in. He barely felt Shiro ushering him somewhere, Keith stumbling a bit as his legs seemed to forget exactly how they were supposed to work. When things cleared up a bit, they were in the guest room, the lamp on its dimmest setting, Shiro sitting on the bed against the headboard and Keith in a heap in his lap.

“You alright?”

“I…” but he couldn’t finish the sentence, taking in gulps of air as he clutched at Shiro’s shirt and started crying in earnest.

“It’s a big thing, I know,” Shiro said, momentarily letting Keith go so he could wrap the throw blanket that sat on the end of the bed around them. It was one of Keith’s favorite things about Shiro, that he never tried to give Keith any shitty platitudes. Just held him for as long as Keith needed to put himself back together.

“They’re just...it isn’t…” Keith finally said, hiccuping through his tears and it was pathetic but he didn’t fucking care, “I don’t want someone to adopt me just because they need to pay my tuition.”

“They’re not doing this on a whim,” Shiro reassured him, his arms tightening around Keith just a little as he pulled his tablet out of his jacket pocket. He scrolled through it for a while, before handing it off to Keith. It was a chat log, messages sent between Shiro, Sam, and Colleen, asking whether Shiro thought Keith would be interested in adoption. The messages had been sent a week before his birthday.

Last year.

Shit. They were serious.

“Like Sam said, you don’t need to make any decisions right now. Just know that this is something they’ve thought of for a long time, okay? And also you, um…” Shiro trailed off, and was he _blushing_? “Geez, this is probably a really shitty time to talk to you about this, but I was going to ask Matt.”

Keith’s entire brain still felt like cotton, and none of this really made sense. “Ask him what?” Shiro’s answer was to dig into his pocket, shifting Keith slightly out of the way as he fished out a small, velvet-covered box. Which honestly didn’t really help. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh, it’s,” Shiro did that smile where he bit the inside of his cheek that meant he was sort of flustered about something, “it’s an engagement ring. I’m going to propose.”

Keith had known, in a sort of detached way, that Shiro and Matt were close, but somehow he’d never really put the pieces together. “You’re _dating_?”

“Shit, I guess we never really talked about that, did we,” Shiro said a little sheepishly. “Yeah, we’ve been dating for about four years now. And as long as we’re on this tangent, please consider this also the ‘I love you no matter whether you’re straight, gay, bi, pan, ace, or anything in between’ conversation, okay?” And Keith hadn’t even really been thinking about that, not yet, but it was still good to know.

“So anyway, if Matt and I got married, and you got adopted by the Holts, you could be my little brother. I mean, I already think of you as my little brother, but this would make it Official.”

And _how the fuck_ had Keith’s life become this? Not just one person, but a whole family that cared about him? He’d never had a foster family for this long before, never lived in one place this long after his dad died. It scared him, a lot, but he...wanted this. Wanted the stability of a _home_. Wanted to help Colleen in the kitchen like he had last Christmas, as she explained the Holt Family Recipe for panettone. Wanted to sit in Sam’s study again as he explained what life was like on the space station. Wanted to gang up with Katie like they had last summer and trade out Matt’s shampoo for blue hair dye.

Wanted to feel like he belonged.

“Let’s go back to my place,” Shiro said gently. “You can eat a tub of ice cream and we’ll watch shitty movies with lots of fake explosions, and you can sleep on this decision, and Sam will go talk to people in the morning. Okay?” Keith nodded against him, feeling drained and shaky and confused, like his entire world had been ripped out from underneath him and then put back in a slightly different place.

He stumbled again when he tried to get off of the bed, and was only slightly embarrassed when Shiro bent down to offer him a piggy-back. Sam and Colleen met them in the hallway, Matt and Katie both peeking out from behind them.

“I just got off the phone with the Dean,” Sam said. “Apparently _someone_ hacked into the student grades database,” neither Matt nor Katie looked at all abashed at being called out, “and found that Maxwell’s students all have an average 15% lower than every other history teacher, and _someone else_ used that information to call the Dean and yell at her.”

Colleen shrugged and tossed him a “sorry” that sounded distinctly unapologetic.

“The Dean is going to bump Maxwell’s students’ grades. Your scholarship is fine, Keith, though our offer still stands, regardless.”

Keith wanted to respond, wanted to say _something_ , but his throat was painfully closing up again and all he could manage was to nod his head from where it was tucked into the back of Shiro’s neck.

“We’re having an ice cream and movie night,” Shiro explained. “Matt, is it okay…?”

“I’ll stay here tonight, no problem,” Matt said, smiling at him, and oh god it was really obvious now that they were boyfriends. “Take your Wunderkind home, just don’t eat my rocky road!”

“I make no promises,” Shiro said over his shoulder as he walked them out the door, the crisp desert air helping Keith wake up a little. He looked up just in time to see a shooting star streaking overhead and let himself make a wish like a little kid.

Maybe, just maybe, he’d found where he belonged.


End file.
